Lullaby of Bones
by UnluckyAmulet
Summary: Temari cannot sleep, but you don't have to be dreaming to hear ghosts. Tayuya is not alive, but you don't have to be living to want revenge. Tayuya X Temari and Temari X Shikamaru. Mature Content. Not Yuri.
1. Overture

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. That belongs to Kishimoto.

**Warning:** Rated T, but the rating will go up. A lot of mindfuckery, language and mature content in later chapters. Not really a romance, though there are hints of it between Temari & Shikamaru, but it's not a Yuri. You've been warned. XD

Enjoy!

* * *

There it was again.

The village of Sunakagure was asleep, but barely. A heatstroke had stormed the city, bleeding into the normally frigid winter nights, keeping the Sand civilians awake with fevers, prickly heat, rashes. Ice, fans and all manner of cooling methods had been preserved, striving to keep the stifling heat at bay. And for one resident, she was nowhere near the blissful state of unconsciousness.

Temari ground her teeth together as she tossed and turned in her bed, her breathing long and slow as she seemed to sigh with every exhale. A bead of sweat trickled down the back of her neck. Her room was aching hot, even with the window flung wide open, the white cotton curtain undoubtedly flickering and fluttering around in the wind outside. Her sheets were so creased that it looked almost like they had ripples, distorted by the constant tossing and turning of the blonde Suna ninja.

But despite the heat, Temari could feel goosebumps on her arms. She shivered.

If it weren't for the fact that she had tried it before, Temari might have considered clamping her hands over her ears, or pushing her pillow over them, feeling the cool side caress her hot cheeks. Temari's frustrated groan died halfway up her windpipe, and she merely turned over onto her side again, trying to blot out the irrepressible sound.

But it got in all the same, the same music, never tiring from its constant playing. At first, the Suna shinobi had obviously assumed it was somebody in the village and rather grumpily complained about it to a few Suna elders.

The odd thing was, nobody seemed to hear it but her. Gaara had merely looked nonplussed at Temari's tirade of furious mutterings about a non-existent, creepy melody floating through the streets of Suna. Kankurou just smirked and tapped his head significantly, increasing Temari's annoyance.

Temari's forehead creased in frustration. The song, smooth and sweet and oh-so-chilling, seemed to slide into her room, swirling up her skin and wriggling around through her mind, the notes dancing and circling each other, serene in the face of Temari's frustration. Calm at the sight of her fatigue.

Tender when fuelled with her fear.

Yes. As much as Temari hated to admit it, the music frightened her. It's melody...it didn't just disturb her sleep, keep her awake and creep her out.

The scariest thing about the melody was that when Temari finally did sleep, she would hear it in her dreams too. And then, it was far worse. Because without reality there to distract her, Temari's nights were filled with the same, sad notes reciting over and over again. And Temari, for all her attempts, couldn't quite follow the tune. And the further the dream manages to go before Temari jolts awake, the further away she seems to get.

Sometimes, she sees strange images along with the music. Sometimes it was a fat boy, not quite an adult. Other times it was a smirking, grey-haired teenager. Other times it was a dark-skinned boy. And sometimes, it was a little girl with hair the colour of apples. Once or twice, she even sees a boy with hair the colour of bones. Their faces and clothes are always hidden in shadow. They run and play like normal children. But their laughter fills Temari's lungs with dread. The music is what they dance to, but they always vanish before Temari can reach out and touch.

It sounded oddly familiar to her, but it always subtly changed, just when she though she might be working it all out. It was sweetandcoldand-

The wind began to howl.

Temari squinted through bleary, bloodshot teal eyes. Her curtains billowed inwards, like the wings of a huge celestial swan. She frowned, her sleep-deprived mind trying dimly to register this, but something felt wrong. She knew to trust her instinct. Instinct was one of the precious few things that kept a shinobi alive.

Had those curtains not been blowing _outside _her window?

Temari sat up straighter, trying desperately to cling to this. Tensing, Temari groped in the darkness until her hand found its way to a kunai she had hidden beneath her mattress, keeping her eyes trained on her window, partially obscured by the curtains. A million, paranoid thoughts skittered through Temari's brain like ants.

Assassin, merchant, enemy. Who else would be slinking around like this at night? She stared at the window, her muscles tensing automatically.

Nothing happened.

If there was somebody there, they were incredibly patient. And still, the song continued. Temari slowly slipped off the bed, her legs trembling a little, due to her lack of energy and fear.

_Come on then, fucker._ Snarled a voice inside Temari's head, _Assassin, are you? Come out and slit my throat...just try it._

Holding the kunai so tightly that her knuckles turned white, Temari raised her arm, shaking so much that her limbs appeared to be moving on their own. The silence seemed to press down, like the darkness was going to close in on her, constricting, choking.

Temari wavered for a fraction of a second. Then she brought across the kunai in one swift motion, a well-practised slash, and the curtain's white fabric tearing as easily as if they had been made from rice paper, white fabric instead of red blood.

And as the curtain fell away, like feathers shed from a great, celestial bird, there was indeed somebody sitting on Temari's windowsill.

She did not look at Temari, though undoubtedly she must have heard her ripping away her cloth shield. Her pose is infuriatingly casual, but then of course, what does she have to be afraid of?

Because she was unmistakably dead.

Dead, yet here.

But as Temari let out a choked gasp, her teal eyes widened with horror, mouth open soundlessly, wordlessly, she turned her head, a sadistic smile already fixed onto her face.

"_Bitch_."

And then she were gone, the only evidence she was there in the first place is Temari's own eyes.

And, of course, the last few notes, lingering in the darkness.

* * *

"Temari, you look like crap."

"Thanks." Temari growled, but this is a reflex, automatic response and she has no heart in it at all.

_No heart..._

"Oi."

Kankurou's hand waved in Temari's line of vision, causing the blonde Suna ninja to jump backwards. She looked up, annoyed, but her scorching gaze was met with a raised eyebrow from her younger brother.

"What's wrong with you, anyway? By now, you would have punched me in the face or something."

Temari somehow managed to work her features into a smile, but it felt like her face might crack if she kept it up for too long. Like a mask of paint.

"Rough night." she shrugged, hoping that Kankurou would leave it at that. He shrugged back, and Temari let out a slow exhale of relief. But...her thoughts trailed back to last night. To the figure, sitting in her windowsill.

_No heart..._

_She's dead._

_So why can I hear her still?_

* * *

Temari's eyes flicked to the clock for about the fourteenth time that night. And it still remained slow as ever.

_12:04_Temari glowered, but apart from that she did nothing. She knew that sitting there, trying to mentally urge time forward was simply making things more difficult. But being patient had never been her strongpoint, and Temari knew that if she fell asleep now...

Temari shuddered. If she had _another_ nightmare, she had a curious feeling that she would just want to be sick and never stop. Purge away the badness that had lodged inside her. Keep going until there was nothing left. Raw. Empty.

Shadows crept along the walls like great clawed hands, moving along slowly as the moon lazily drifted across the black-bleached sky. Temari tried not to pay them any attention, but her eyes kept flicking to every dark corner. Waiting. Wary.

Music.

Temari froze, like a deer that has heard a careless predator snap a twig underfoot. The song, as dangerous and beautiful as smoke, drifts in once more, the way a cat might wind its way around your legs if it wanted something.

"Come on..." Temari muttered, her voice sounding hoarse and deep against the subtle flute. "Come on...hurry..."

What Temari was waiting for, she didn't know.

Waiting for something she never hoped would come.

But she knew that now that the ghost, spectre, phantom, whatever it was, knew that she knew it was there, it made it even more fun for it to see her like this. With cold sweat soaking her sheets, keeping her close to being an insomniac with the twisted nightmares. And so she must face her, again.

Unable to stand the suspense further, the Suna ninja leapt up from her seat. She rushed over to the window, flinging it open even wider and peering out. She was greeted with the stinging desert winds, and the peaceful silence of the night. Exhaling hard, Temari felt a wave of relief wash over her. Satisfied, she turned around.

And was greeted with the sight of her. The red-haired, see-through girl who Temari saw die with her own eyes.

Sitting on Temari's bed.

Smiling.

"Hey, bitch. Remember me?"

* * *

Temari's pupils dilated, like black olives, her posture stiff with shock. Tayuya's lip twitched, as she sat cross-legged on Temari's bed, making no dents on the rumpled sheets. No dents, because there is nothing. Temari can place the girl's face. But her name is as distant as the ocean, and for a few moments the blonde can only stare.

_So it's you. It's you, it's you. You've been the one messing me up, but how why, where did you come from, why, how did you._So many questions beg to pour from Temari's mouth, but it has dried up, and she can only stare, her eyes widened. Tayuya cocked her head to the side. She is not in the cursed form. But then, she isn't really a form at all.

"It's been a while." remarked Tayuya, rising up from the bed like hateful vapour, like steam. "Three years. But it looks like you remember me, huh?"

"W-what the..."

Temari's voice comes out a hoarse whisper, but at least it's returned. Clearing her throat, Temari began again, her fists clenched so hard against her palms that they left small, white shapes of her nails in her skin. She fought for control.

"What the fuck are you...How can you be...?"

"You killed me." Tayuya hissed, "Remember?"

Hate fills those words, and for a second it looked like Tayuya would choke on her own contempt, on the bitterness and shame of death. But of course, she cannot choke.

Temari remembered, but only vaguely. Tayuya is right, it has been three years. Three long years, and she was by no means Temari's last victim since. While the blonde Suna kunoichi had opted for a more peaceful outlook on like since Konoha's alliance, but it did not stop blood appearing on her hands.

"Your still not over that?" sneered Temari, her facade back up faster then you could throw a kunai. "I would have thought three years-"

_Bitch._

The word resounds throughout the room, and all of a sudden Tayuya's image rippled. Temari frowned in confusion, but Tayuya's gazed remained fixed and piercing. Temari looked down and she screamed.

Snakes.

Snakes filled the room, writhing over each other, bellies fat and twisting, fangs bared. The sound of hissing filled the room, and Temari crawls backwards, falling back onto the bed as a fat, poisonous black snake slithered up her leg. Temari sat upright, furious, when a fat python coiled around her neck, legs and arms. She gagged.

_"Three years."_

The snakes vanished. Tayuya smirked as Temari panted, shaking, her face a pale as the curtains she had torn away. For a moment, the wild impulse for Temari to seize her fan and send a gale of wind blasting through the room, ripping away this ghost, this imprint. But she restrained herself, because Temari knows that it won't work. She was powerless.

"How long are you going to keep doing this?" Temari snarled, trying unsuccessfully to mask her own desperation. it's like Temari is speaking in code. She's talking about the music, about the visions, about everything. But Tayuya crushes this into one thing.

"As long as it takes!" retorted Tayuya, sounding almost as angry as Temari. Temari stared at her, incredulous.  
"As long as _what _takes?!"

Tayuya through up her translucent hands in frustration, her expression furious. Wild, almost, and Temari suddenly felt frightened by the intensity of it. Because Tayuya can't hurt her, she knows that, but somebody who isn't really there should not be able to make that noise, a desperate and harsh wail that made the hairs on the back of Temari's neck stand up.

"_It_! Me, leaving this shitty place! Do you have any fucking idea what it must be like, tramping around this miserable freakin' desert with no body? I can't go anywhere besides here and that stupid Leaf village!"

Tayuya turned away from Temari from a moment, clutching at her hair, even though she can't possibly be really grabbing it.

"So why come to me?" challenged Temari, her eyebrows raised, voice challenging and impassive. "Why haunt me-?"

"_He_ didn't kill me." Tayuya reminded Temari with a sneer. "You did, bitch."

Temari smirked at this. They both knew who they were talking about.

_Troublesome..._

"So what are you going to do?" she jeered, her voice growing steadily more triumphant as she spoke, "You're a poor loser, aren't you? Going to dress up in a sheet? Play more pretty songs? That might have freaked me out before, but that's all you can do, isn't it? You can't hurt me!"

Tayuya's expression contorted with rage, and she came toward Temari slowly, the temperature dropping down a few more degrees.

"No. But I can do _this..._"

And ice flooded through her intestines. Ice pooled in her brain. Ice flew to her heart, speeding along her veins and arteries. Ice, ice, ice. Temari opened her mouth to scream, but it just fills up with cold water, trickling down her slackened jaw, gushing down her neck and sliding down her torso. Her fingers grasp at the bed, nails ripping at the fabric. She is so, so cold. Pleaseplease make it stop-

And then she's back.

Tayuya sat on the edge of Temari's bed. She looks mollified, but not satisfied. Her expression is sour, and she barely glanced over at Temari as the Suna kunoichi retched.

"Don't you..." choked Temari, hand going to her own throat as she shivered violently. "Don't you _ever_ do that again."

Tayuya leered.

"Or what, whore? You can't hurt me, remember?"

Temari felt a stab. A hateful surge. But shock and fear seemed to stitch her mouth shut, a thread that Temari could not break. Tayuya smiled sweetly as Temari opened her mouth and closed it.

"Think that's all I got?" Tayuya asked, in a light, innocent voice that did not suit her malicious leer. "Well you're in for a treat, you miserable little bitch. I've had three fucking years to practise. Three fucking years to think about it. So don't think I won't be back, Suna whore."

"If you've had three years, why now?" Temari burst out before she could stop herself. Tayuya floated upwards, eerily pale non-body seeming to swallow the darkness. Her tone glowed as much as her skin, filled with scorn.

"I'll leave you to work it out, shall I?" she sneered. "Oh. And don't worry about your boyfriend. I'll take care of him."

"Don't come back, bitch." Temari snarled, but Tayuya simply raised her chin slightly, a cold and defiant smirk plastered on her translucent, milky skin. Lifting up a thin, metal instrument, Tayuya slowly vanished, leaving a chill of icy air in her place. Temari snorted, sinking back down on the bed, willing for this to all have just been a bad dream.

But upon hearing those last few, taunting little notes, Temari knows that this is a promise that has been sealed.


	2. Intermedio

Hey there, readers! Hm. I thought I would end up writing this story quicker, but at least I've updated. Just a heads up at the chapter rating it still T...for now.

Enjoy!

* * *

Nara Shikamaru dreamt of Asuma.

This was not an uncommon occurrence for the Nara boy. (Not now. Not since.)

But the operative word was 'dreamt'. Usually, when Shikamaru saw his ex-sensei, he was usually lying on the floor, blood smeared on every surface, the last few flecks of ash fluttering to the floor. Nightmares.

But something strange happened in this dream.

_He chased Asuma through smoke, calling his sensei's name. But each time the words left his mouth, they seemed to just vanish, like vapour. The smoke was always there- It was thick, but wherever Asuma ran, it become thinner. Shikamaru followed, his feet not running on ground, but simply running. He was always chasing Asuma, but could never quite catch him. His sensei's cigarette glowed in the swirly, grey atmosphere. Ash never seemed to fall, and Asuma never became tired._

_Shikamaru pounded on, his calls growing sparser and increasingly desperate. Eventually, he stopped shouting all together, because it was clear that Asuma was just as focused on getting to wherever he was going as Shikamaru was at catching up to his teacher. He usually woke up before then, and when he did, Shikamaru would have to blink for a few moments before his world became colour again. It was more difficult then he expected to shake away the grey._

_But, that night, it was different._

_"Asuma!"_

_Shikamaru's shout had left his mouth before he could stop it- it seemed to bounce around the grey, smoky world. It called back to him, his echo. "Asuma!"_

_His sensei's laugh brought Shikamaru back from his imaginings. Shikamaru turned, and saw his sensei's retreating back, the familiar jounin jacket bobbing away into the gloom. The shadow-manipulator chased it, showing much more concentration then he ever does when he is awake._

_For some reason, he can make out Asuma much clearer then usual. The slick black of his hair, the colour of his skin. His laugh is loud and gravely, the sounds his feet make on the misty carpet oddly loud and clear for somebody who is walking on fog._

_The fog itself also seemed to be shifting. It was thinning, turning a white, instead of blue-grey like it always is. The white is so thin that as Shikamaru reached forwards and waved his arm, it began to clear._

_Asuma stopped running._

_Then a new sound broke into the whiteness, and it made the hair on Shikamaru's neck stand on end, without him really knowing why._

_Asuma was standing under what looked like a willow tree, but the leaves are black and twisted into odd shapes. They look almost like notes, and the branches sway sadly, the same inky-black as the leaves themselves._

_Asuma smiled down, and Shikamaru saw his arms around someone. The figure embracing his sensei is about a head or so shorter, and from what the Nara can see, it seems to be female. Long hair sways around her, cloaking her. A laugh pierces the fog, and then the girl turned and looked at Shikamaru and_-

_Blackness._Shikamaru's eyelids flickered. Then he opened them, slowly. The sight of his bedroom greeted him, along with the sound of his mother's voice from downstairs.

He decides that he prefers the old nightmare.

* * *

"Kankurou."

"Eh? What?"

The flame-haired Kazekage stared at his brother for a moment, his aquamarine gaze intense and unblinking. Kankurou stared back, his painted face wearing a confused expression, brows knitted with confusion. Then Gaara spoke.

"Temari's been acting strange."

A statement, blunt and to the point. But it is still unhelpful. Kankurou frowned.

"She says she's just tired."

Gaara looked disdainful.

"Huh."

* * *

The plains of the rice country were dry and bare. The heat wave had not only affected Suna, although that was the worst area for it. But the Rice Country was not a rich area to begin with, no thanks to the consistent bad harvesting or the useless government that Rice had suffered though.

Tayuya floated above the yellowing fields, a strange feeling coming over her. She couldn't describe the way it felt properly, really, since she had no body with which to feel symptoms. At this thought, her eyes narrowed and she felt another burst of frustration. But, with an almost forced determination, the ghost girl continued on, out of sheer stubbornness then anything else.

Not to mention, of course, that feeling that would NOT go away.

Tayuya was alone.

But just as this connected, as the thought entered her mind, Tayuya suddenly stopped.

Or, rather, she felt something _force_ her to stop.

Tayuya simply hovered there for a moment, her eyes wide with shock. For a moment, she did absolutely nothing. Then, hesitantly, she tried to move forwards. And as soon as she did, she found herself being pushed back. She tested this again, first by stretching out an arm, then by trying to fly straight forwards.

Tayuya let out a growl of frustration, which nobody heard. She growled again, and it turned into a horrible, strangled noise. Several birds took flight, confused but scared.

Because she had not been entirely truthful, that night she spoke to Temari. Because even though Tayuya had said that she could not return to the village of Sound- her Sound- she had not really believed it. Tayuya had thought that it was just a glitch, a one-off. Just her new ghost-body getting settled in. But no.

Not being able to eat, Tayuya could handle. Not being able to sleep was no great loss. Being able to fly and walk through walls? That part of it was fun.

People not being able to see or hear her... that was kind of annoying. It would have been much more useful to her if she was still alive, still able to be a real ninja. Spreading coldness everywhere she went? Tayuya only liked the horror aspect of it. Right now, people seemed to actually _enjoy_ the cold, in the face of the stupid heat wave.

But not being able to go to Sound? Not being able to speak to anybody except her own murderer? It was awful.

No. More then that, it was _horrible_. Tayuya thought that she could at least go to the last place she had lived, to remember who she was. What she was.

"Orochimaru-sama..." Tayuya moaned, grasping at her translucent hair, her paper-white limbs suddenly appalling her. "Orochimaru-sama..."

_"What's your name?"  
She scowled.  
"Tayuya."  
No last name. She was Tayuya. Take it or leave it. The man smiled, his face as white as freshly-cooked rice.  
"Come with me, Tayuya. Come with me, and become strong. Like me."  
And a hand as white as his face descended, in front of Tayuya, waiting for her decision. Tayuya looked at the hand, then up to him.  
"Who are you?"  
"I am Orochimaru."  
His name. His name seemed to scratch itself inside her mind. It rolled around her mouth like liquor, rendering her tongue useless, overpowering her senses. Tayuya looked at him with a different expression. She stretched up her hand, into his._

It had been three years. Tayuya died three years ago. He had moved on. He didn't want her, anymore. She was not his Tayuya. She did not belong to him. He wanted the Uchiha boy. And that was what mattered.

Tayuya looked at her hands, looked at the village she could see through them. The hands that had once stretched to his.

_Orochimaru-sama._

Tayuya looked at those hands. And she cried.


	3. Passacaglia

Just to say THANK YOU for all your reviews so far. Also, the rating is still 'T' for swearing and so on and so forth. Anyway, on with the 3rd installment!

* * *

Shikamaru woke up when he heard a soft 'thud' by his windowsill.

"Nnngh..." he mumbled, scratching his head. Whoever it was, he thought grimly, they weren't trying particularly hard to conceal themselves. It was probably Naruto or Kiba. Chouji wouldn't come to his house so early, and Ino would use the door, then burst into his room to make more of an 'impact'. Getting up and yawning, Shikamaru yanked the curtain away.

Then he grunted with surprised and staggered backwards a little, his balance not being one hundred percent in the mornings.

Temari stared at him with raised eyebrows.

"Hello." she stated, eyeing him up and down, taking in his sleep-rumpled clothes.

"What're you doing here?" yawned Shikamaru, his initial surprise quickly ebbing, now feeling merely curious and slightly sedated. Temari sighed and jumped off the windowsill. When she straightened up and looked at him, Shikamaru quickly saw how tired she looked. Her eyes were half-lidded with dark circles beneath them. A very small twig was caught in one of her pigtails, though she didn't seem to have noticed.

"...Have you only just come from Sand?" Shikamaru asked, too tired to demand it. Temari nodded stiffly.

"Can we go downstairs?" Temari suddenly said, as Shikamaru was about to speak, "I need to talk to you."

_I need to talk to you._ The words made the Nara's sleepy mood suddenly ebb somewhat, replaced with slight suspicion and even dread. Whatever Temari wanted, it couldn't be good. Not only because of the words or the way she had said them, but also the fact she had travelled from Sand to Konoha at night and come straight to his house to talk to him.

No. This did not bode well.

She was still staring at him, so Shikamaru swallowed and gestured feebly at the door. "Yeah, this way."

She followed him silently down the stairs. Shikamaru prayed that his mother wouldn't be downstairs- if she saw a still half-asleep Shikamaru and an exhausted-looking Temari come traipsing down the stairs, she would no doubt jump to stupid conclusions.

Fortunately, Yoshino was ought. A note was slapped onto the fridge, written in capital letters, but Shikamaru ignored it.

"Um...tea?" he offered limply, feeling like he should at least make up for his reaction upon seeing Temari. He had expected her to decline, since she had clearly arrived at Konoha in a hurry, but instead Temari nodded slowly, her teal eyes trained on the surface of the table.  
Almost tentatively, Shikamaru made the tea, shooting glances at Temari every now and then. She didn't look at him, but merely sat there, breathing slowly.

"Here."

He set down a cup in front of her, then sat down himself. Temari took a moment to pick it up, then drank slowly, her eyes slithering shut as she did so. Shikamaru watched her, and as she put down the cup, she let out a sigh, possibly of relief.

"So." he said, quietly, as Temari set the cup down with slightly shaking hands. "What's this about?"

Temari didn't answer him right away. She stared out of the window for a moment, her mouth pursing very slightly.

"Do you remember Tayuya?" she asked, her voice sounding brittle and flat. The Shadow-manipulator stared at her.

"What?"

"Do you remember Tayuya?" Temari repeated through slightly gritted teeth, almost as though she was scared of asking the question. Shikamaru blinked.

"Tayuya?"

The name sounded familiar. Eerily familiar, but he can't put it to a face. Temari stared at him, looking oddly fixated. Shikamaru looked away.

"She was one of the Sound Four. Remember? It was after Orochimaru invaded Konoha and betrayed Sand."

Shikamaru thought, hard. Temari was still staring at him in that disconcerting, oddly intense way. Like she was trying to plant the image into his mind. The Nara knew that she wouldn't drag herself all the way to Konoha just to jog his memory about a mission that happened three years ago. Something had seriously rattled her. Her eyes were a little red around the edges.

"She played the flute." Temari persisted, her eyes willing him to remember. Shikamaru frowned, because the more she talked, the more confused he was getting as to why she even cared. But, slowly, the images began to fall into place. Red hair, fierce fallow-coloured eyes.

He looked back at her.

"I remember."

Temari's jaw set, and a strangely hollow note entered her voice.

"She's back."

* * *

Tayuya was learning.

Being a ghost took a while to get used to, not surprisingly. At first, the ex-kunoichi had wasted time being angry. Now, she realised, if she was going to get her revenge, she needed to practise her powers.

The spectre hovered through the forest, gritting her translucent teeth as she flew against the pressure. Wind, rain and even sunlight had no effect on Tayuya whatsoever, but for some reason, strange weather seemed to agree with her more then calm, tranquil days.

Storms, for example, made her feel strangely energised. It seemed that her ghostly self was reacting to the pressure in the atmosphere, however the hell that was possible. Tayuya didn't really have a clue how it worked. Shinobi didn't believe in ghosts. The part they focused on was being alive.

_Alive..._

Tayuya shook her head. She was getting distracted. She had to focus on her task.

Then, she saw it. Out in the horizon, the famous Hokage Mountain of Konoha loomed into view; the face carved into the rock all look out in different directions. The faces all had calm, authoritative expressions, but for some reason, Tayuya had the strangest feeling they could see her.

Ridiculous.

Eventually, the sea of tress began to thin out until she finally reached the huge gates of the village. Smirking, the ghost-girl drifted almost serenely through them. Two guards stood at each of the massive doors. Deciding - why the hell not? -, Tayuya floated through one of them. He shivered.

"What's up, Izumo?" asked the second guard, looking over with raised eyebrows. He shook his head.

"Nothing...I just felt...nevermind."

"Idiots." scoffed Tayuya, as she carried on, hovering over the streets of Konoha, her eyes scanning for a suitable target. Anybody tired or drunk looking, she decided.

But unfortunately for Tayuya, the villagers weren't particularly prone to getting drunk in the middle of the day. And as for tired-looking people, there were simply too many for Tayuya to choose from.

She sighed, angrily. A couple of people shivered as she went by, looking worried or confused. One man even pulled a kunai from his boot, though of course there was nobody there he could throw it at. Tayuya wanted to laugh, but she felt bitter and frustrated, so she didn't.

Then, just as she contemplated turning around and looking around Sand for a better target, something caught Tayuya's eye. She followed it, a strangely hungry feeling urging her onwards.

This urge took Tayuya to the training grounds. A fat boy with cinnamon-coloured hair was standing opposite a thin girl wearing a skimpy purple outfit, her long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail.

"Hurry up, Chouji!" she was saying in a bossy voice. It was the voice of a girl who was used to having her orders obeyed. "Are you ready yet?"

"Give me a minute, Ino-chan..." the boy replied, clutching at a stitch in his side. The girl tutted, tossing back her hair.

Tayuya was reminded, dimly, of a girl named Kin who did the exact same gesture when she was annoyed. Kin had been a sub-par kunoichi, and Tayuya smirked when she remembered that Orochimaru-sama had sacrificed her at the age of thirteen. For some reason, it made her feel a little better.

"Hey, Chouji." Ino suddenly said, in a completely different tone of voice to the one she had just used. "Don't you think Shikamaru's been acting a little weird?"

"Hmm?" Chouji looked up, though he was still doubled over. "How do you mean?"

Tayuya's eyes widened for a moment. She floated a little closer, her tongue darting out of her mouth for a moment.

"I dunno. Ever since Asuma-sensei..."

Here, the girl gulped slightly, her bottom lip moving slightly.

"...well, since then, he's been acting like he can't even see us. Like he's not...there."

"It's normal, Ino-chan." replied Chouji gently. "...He's hurting. We all are."

Ino sniffed.

"Yeah."

Tayuya snorted. They thought _they_ were suffering? They didn't have to drift around, being ignored by everyone! Nobody could even fucking remember her! Her master was using some arrogant Uchiha brat with a rod shoved up his ass as a vessel! They were safe in their stupid bodies, people could touch and see them. They knew nothing.

But they knew _him_. They were his teammates. She could use that.

"Are you ready?" Ino barked, abruptly, her bossy voice back in place. Chouji nodded, and the blonde made a seal with her hands.

"_Shintenshin_!"

Suddenly, Tayuya saw rather then felt it, the girl's conscious leave her body. In a swift movement, the astral-form of the girl had flown from her body into the boy's.

Her thin body crumpled, landing on the grass with a soft slithering motion. The boy's head jerked back, then he gasped as she became him.

Tayuya looked at the skinny body of the girl as the boy turned away from it, apparently to practise something. She smiled for the first time since she had left Sound.

She claimed Ino's body for herself.

* * *

"Back? Is that possible?"

Shikamaru stared over at Temari, his mind working furiously. She was telling the truth, he could see that right away. The strange, restricted motions of her gestures, the desperate look in her eyes, the hollow way she spoke. She was telling the truth, but whether that was real or a figment of her imagination was harder to work out.

"Apparently so." Temari replied crisply. She was angry that he didn't believe her, but he wasn't being condescending or sceptical. He was simply mulling things over, so Temari tried to exercise the little patience she had left. "Look, I've been hearing that flute of hers for weeks now. She only appeared before me a few days ago."

"And she wants revenge?" asked the Nara, his voice pensive.

"On both of us. That's why I came."

Shikamaru sighed. This, he could believe. Ninja who died early would probably hold a few grudges in the afterlife. But still...

His mind went back, back to the dream he had a few nights ago. The song that played as he chased Asuma through the mist. The willow tree, its leaves replaced by small, twisted notes. And the girl who stared at him, her smile sadistic, her eyes full of hate.

He closed his eyes, breathing in the incense his mother had lit before she left the house.

"I believe you."

When he opened his eyes, Temari looked relieved. Relieved, but still wan and troubled.

"Thank you." she said. She meant it. For him to believe in what she said, it at least made her feel that if she had to deal with this, she wouldn't be by herself. Shikamaru nodded.

"But believing won't be enough." Temari said, her voice low with warning. "She's not going to leave us alone. She wants revenge."

Shikamaru looked up.

"Yeah. I know. But how?"

Temari shook her head.

"All I know is...together, we're still alone."


	4. Sognando

Greetings, readers!

Just to give a big thanks to everybody who has reviewed so far, and to say this chapter is still T, due to a slight mentioning of blood and a bit of swearing.

Enjoy!

* * *

Insomnia, noted Shikamaru, was apparently contagious.

Ever since Temari's visit a few days prior, the Nara boy had suddenly been able to find any excuse to put off going to bed. For some reason, those shurikan that he had in a pouch somewhere on the floor of his room really seemed to need cleaning. Tidying his bedroom became a priority.

It wasn't that he was afraid of the nightmares. If it were about that, Shikamaru would have stopped sleeping a long time ago.

But he didn't want to sleep, because he didn't want to admit that this was really happening.

Yes, Shikamaru had told Temari what she wanted to hear. Yes, he found it a strange coincidence that he was dreaming of a mysterious, flamed-haired girl the same time Temari was being 'haunted.'

But Shikamaru was a strategist. He believed in logic.

What logic was there in the one ghost, returning three years prior to her death? Why would it be that particular ninja? Why now?

So many questions. Questions the Shadow-manipulated doesn't think can be answered. Not even by the ghost herself, if she even existed.

Lying down on his cool bed, Shikamaru stared at the ceiling, his eyes focusing on nothing in particular. His room was dark, but the curtains were blowing elegantly in the breeze. It was nearing midday, but to Shikamaru, it was basically just hours stretching on ahead of him without sleep there to interrupt him endless musings. His parents, strangely, seemed to know something was going on, because just recently they had been giving him a slightly wider birth.

Not avoiding him, exactly, but there was a certain tentative way that they would react to him. His mother's voice was strangely flat when she would tell him to pick up his damn stuff or his father would gruffly ask him if he was alright, before grunting and going off to work. His mother had even refrained from complaining when Shikamaru told her he wasn't feeling well. She merely told him "not to push it" before leaving to house also. He didn't know if it was the lies she was talking about, or the excuses.

He possibility it was himself had only just occurred to him.

Shikamaru wasn't sure, but maybe the shadows under his eyes let them know what they needed to know.

After a few minutes, however, Shikamaru could hear a tap dripping from the bathroom. A steady trickling, probably from the shower. He closed his eyes, but now that he had noticed the sound, it seemed to grow more insistent, like a rapid increase of a heartbeat.

With a sigh that rattled from him. Shikamaru flipped himself off the bed, stretching his arms so far out he heard his shoulder pop in an oddly satisfying way.

Heading for the bathroom, Shikamaru squinted at the sunlight. He didn't remember using so much steam in the bathroom, either, but it was as though a switch had been flicked, thick steam hovering serenely, almost as though it was expanding.

"Huh?" murmured Shikamaru, frowning slightly.

He walked into the bathroom, his bare feet slapping gently on the slightly damp floor. The dripping continued melodiously.

Then, through the steam, Shikamaru saw something. At first, he was convinced the sunlight and steam combined was making his vision hazy, but another noise, like a hiss, penetrated the silence.

Another movement, just to his right. He flicked his eyes to the bath again, and he saw a shape, standing just under the nozzle for the shower.

Shikamaru rubbed his eyes, his knuckles poking at them through the delicate skin of his eyelids. When he finally removed them, however, the image became even clearer.

The ghost of a redhead was casually leaning against the tiles on the wall. Her skin didn't leave a wet imprint on the tiles, but her arm and back were glistening as though she had just stepped out of the bath. Shikamaru opened his mouth, but the only noise to escape was something that sounded like a strangulated gasp.

Finally, she looked over at him. Her expression was odd. Her eyes were watching him, a lock of hair falling between them, striking red against her tanned skin. She wasn't smirking, like he had expected, or even glaring, specifically, but there was something cold, almost predatory about her gaze that made Shikamaru's throat dry.

"...Why...?" he eventually managed to say, conjuring the words from the last piece of resolve in him. He cleared his throat. "Why are you here?"

She didn't answer. She merely frowned, as though she was concentration. Tayuya's skin rippled for a moment, and then she stepped out of the bath. The Nara boy was surprised to see that Tayuya was not wearing the clothes she had died in. Her skin was still glistening, her hair messy and fanning out around her, her hat missing. She moved close to him, her expression never shifting its focus. Shikamaru didn't want to touch her, so he backed away, awkwardly, until he felt the wall and his back gently collide.

Tayuya watched Shikamaru retreat, and he thought he sensed a shift in her demeanour. He suddenly noticed how cold the room felt. Tayuya placed on hand on the wall nearby Shikamaru's head. The move was slow and measured, her palm flattening against the wall. She was still staring at him, her mouth thin, as if she was biting down hard on the inside of her lip.

"What is it?" Shikamaru muttered, his voice mingling with the sound of the faucet dripping. He felt afraid, but more of Tayuya's silence then anything else. He could never remember her being silent, "What do you want from me?"

Tayuya stared into Shikamaru's eyes and moved closer. He could feel nothing but cold, the hairs on his neck standing on end. Then Tayuya leaned forwards, her icy breath floating through the whorls of his ears.

"I have a message for you." she whispered, and her voice was like smoke.

She smiled as her hair somehow managed to brush his arm.

"He's waiting for you."

When Shikamaru opened his eyes, she was gone in an instant.

He would have been convinced that he was dreaming, except that Tayuya had left him an eerily real momento, before that too vanished. Shikamaru's lips were ice cold.

A handprint, fresh and shining glistened on the wall, right where Tayuya had placed her palm.

It was made with blood.

* * *

"Excuse me, Kazekage?"

"Yes?"

"Your brother wishes to see you."

A sigh.

"Send him in."

The blonde girl disappeared, and Kankurou entered. He wore a grim expression, and his face-paint was smudged. His left hand had faint purple smears on the side of the wrist and on his fingers.

"Kankurou, this had better be important." intoned Gaara, tapping his fingernails on the table, watching his brother fidgeting uncomfortably,"I have work to do."

"Have you seen Temari?" Kankurou burst in, somewhat impatiently, but Gaara could sense his brother's agitation, so did not rise to this. Instead, he shook his head, watching Kankurou's hands clenching and unclenching.

"Kankurou." Gaara repeated, quietly. "What is it?"

"Do you remember when Temari kept complaining about how it was always cold in her room? And how she couldn't sleep in there and shit?"

"I remember." affirmed Gaara. Kankurou had unconsciously began rubbing at his face in agitation, the paint cracking and flaking onto his knuckles. Gaara wondered how many times Kankurou had already re-added his face paint throughout the course of the day.

"It was weird." frowned Kankurou, "I went in there the other day, and it's like a friggin' icebox. It makes the hairs on my arm stand up to go in there, and not just because of the cold. I feel like...I'm being watched when I go in. Like someone's already in there, even when I check in every possible place. It's just...I don't blame her for not wanting to be there either. But I dunno where she is."

Gaara said nothing, but the wheels in his mind were already turning. He rose his aquamarine eyes to his brother's. Kankurou looked away, whether he was cowed by Gaara's expression or embarrassed about his feeble reasoning, Gaara didn't know. An expected pause filled the room when the Kazekage did not immediantly respond. Eventually, Gaara said,

"Temari departed to the Leaf Village six days ago. Perhaps she's seeking answers there."

"What?" Kankurou jumped in, surprised. When Gaara merely continued to gaze at him, however, he relaxed slightly.

"She's just...not herself." mumbled Kankurou, shrugging his shoulders. "That's all."

Gaara nodded his eyes deep and thoughtfully staring at the desk. Then he spoke his words quiet and measured.

"I think...you need to let Temari handle this on her own." he said. Kankurou made as if to interrupt, but Gaara continued and he fell silent, "If she has gone to Konoha instead of remaining here, all we can do is allow her to handle the situation by herself until she needs us."

"When will we know that?" Kankurou replied, softly, his voice slightly irritable, but pained, "When is she going to tell us?"

"We _will_ know." answered Gaara, his voice still calm and quiet, but an authoritative tone was creeping into it as he stared thoughtfully out at the sunset, the sight breathtaking from the tower, the village of Sand being sent into a meditative slumber as twilight approached, "She is our sister. We will know."

Kankurou watched Gaara for a moment, marvelling in the unexpected depth of his brother's words. He nodded slowly, his hood falling off his head as he moved, making his face look strangely vulnerable without its shadow and its faded facepaint.

"...Yeah." Kankurou eventually responded, his voice reflecting Gaara's tranquillity, his forehead uncreasing as he observed the sunset and the village. "Thanks, Gaara."

Without another word, Kankurou turned and departed, his footsteps making soft shuffling sounds against the floor, the door closing silently behind him.

* * *

For those of you who are curious, the words I've been using in the chapter titles are music terminologies.

Keep reading!


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